


That Time With the Thing

by StripedSunhat



Series: Single Father Klaus [18]
Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Gen, Humor, It's all Bang's Fault, Klaus is a Drama Queen, Noodle Incidents, Paris hijinks, Pre-Canon, Why Klaus needs therapy, Why Sparks need therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 00:37:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20612030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripedSunhat/pseuds/StripedSunhat
Summary: This is what happens when your children go away to school and you can't call them on their behavior as oftenIt's all Bang's fault.





	That Time With the Thing

**Author's Note:**

> This probably edges dangerously into crack. Some would probably say it flat out is crack. They wouldn't necessarily be wrong. It's also possibly not all that... good. But it's fun! Hopefully anyway.  
But! We are nearing the end of the series. They'll be one more in Village of One and one more in Single Father and that will be it.

When Gil was growing up, Klaus had to call him to his office to explain his actions on average two or three times a month. Discounting those absolutely _hellish_ two and a half weeks where he had to call Gil in _thirty-three times_. He never should have let him have copies of the Heterodyne stories. At the very least he should have put his foot down about Trelawney Thorpe books. At least Bill and Barry were family.

Since Gil had left for university there’d only been three times in the same number of years that he’d had to call him back for some problem he’s caused. That wasn’t to say he hadn’t called him home for other reasons or that he hadn’t used those other times as a chance to… ask for clarification on certain reports he received from Paris. And that certainly didn’t mean Gil had magically become more responsible instead of remaining eternally… Gilgamesh. But it was more complicated to call Gil to the carpet from France than it was from only the other side of the airship.

The result, for better or worse (it was probably worse; Klaus knew how the world worked) Gil had to do something absolutely spectacular to get dragged into Klaus’s office nowadays.

And _this_ was certainly spectacular.

Gil was already in his office when he arrived. Gil immediately stood. He opened his mouth to say something. Klaus glared at him until his mouth snapped shut. Klaus crossed the room with long purposeful strides, rounding his desk and sitting down. He purposefully did not turn to acknowledge the absolute disgrace of a son standing in the middle of his office. 

“Sit.” Gil dropped into his chair.

Shuffling the reports he’d received he took a moment for one last look over them.

Certainly spectacular indeed.

“So,” Klaus said, finally tearing his eyes from the paper, “Would you care to explain?”

Gil opened his mouth for the second time. He shut it again. Opened it. Shut it. Opened it. Shut it. Opened it.

“For the record,” he finally said, “I blame Bang.”

Klaus was not going to sigh. He was not going to sigh and he was going to remain level-headed.

“Captain DuPree wasn’t even there.”

“My account of the event stands.”

“She wasn’t even in Paris. She’s been on the eastern edge of the empire for the last three weeks.”

Gil opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it.

“My account of the event still stands.”

Klaus took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose. If Gil was going to blame someone, he could at least pick someone who was actually present at the time. Like Sturmvoraus. Who Klaus’s spies said was literally in the middle of the entire thing from the very beginning. If he only went by Gil’s written report (crumpled, scribbled handful of napkins that it was, you can bet he’d be having Gil rewrite it properly), he wouldn’t know Sturmvoraus was there. Of course if he only went by Gil’s reports he wouldn’t even know Sturmvoraus was in Paris at all. And his son wondered why he didn’t trust his reports.

“Will you at least explain the marmite waterfall?”

“That part was Wooster’s fault.”

“…Wooster?” Please let him not mean the British spy he’d taken up with. Please let him not mean the British spy he’d take up with.

Gil waved his hand. “Oh you’ll like him. I’m bringing him back with me.”

No Brit was that good. Even Albia herself hadn’t been that good.

“You’re not bringing your British spy back to the airship.”

“Of course not Father,” Gil said, far, _far_ too easily. “Rather than a spy we already know and know we can control we should roll the dice with whomever Albia sends next.” And there it was. “I’ve heard Trelawney Thorpe’s been making noise about spending time in Europa. More time than it takes to rescue a captured princess I mean. And she’s enough of a traditional hero that we can’t really tell her now without sparking a good two or three dozen new rebellions.” Gil leaned back and grinned at him.

“We’re getting off topic,” Klaus growled. Gil grinned wider.

Why did Klaus want children again?

Klaus waved the stack of reports in the air. “Paris. Explain.”

Gil opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it. Shu– “From now on every time you open your mouth cohesive, pertinent words had better come out of it before you shut it again.”

“Auhuh…”

“**Cohesive, pertinent words**. Not just mindless sounds.”

“Ah… you see, it all began when Bang–”

“Try an explanation _without_ DuPree.”

“I’m… not sure I’d be able to do that.” Klaus let his head drop onto his desk. “…father?” He grumbled into the wood. “Father?” He didn’t answer. “Are you alright?” Not without involving screaming. “…Would it help if I didn’t use her name?” Sun had been lecturing him about his blood pressure again. “I could just call it a case of piratical psychic influence.” This was why his blood pressure was the way it was.

“…Father? If you’re not going to say anything can I go? I have a practical tomorrow and the professor said if we’re late we’ll be used as the test subjects.

“Is Voltaire even going to let you back in Paris?” Klaus asked, still refusing to raise his head from the desk.

“I think he’s demanding it.”

Klaus pried his head up so he could glare at his son. “Explain.”

“One of his aids caught me right before the dirigible took off. Something to do with apologizing to the swans in person. Or something. It might have been apologize _for_ the swans. Or maybe the swings. He wasn’t all that clear.”

He could try to address any of that insanity and inevitably have it end up circling back to DuPree or he could turn it into a reminder on Gil’s lessons. Klaus chose sanity. “You’re going to have to deal with a great deal of people as the future Baron, many of varying levels of incoherence and idiocy. You know better than to cite a simple lack of cohesion as a reason to not understand what has been told to you.”

“Oh.” Gil blinked and tilted his head to the side. “No, I meant his mouth was still glued shut.” Then why would Voltaire– “I think he was the most expressive aid at the time. Or maybe a more accurate phrase would be the most expressive of the aids who’d been able to free themselves.”

Klaus strongly considered dropping his head back onto the desk. A knock on the door kept him from it. He really hated whoever was on the other side of that door. “Her Baron?” Boris. He was allowed to hate Boris, that was fine.

** _“What.”_ **

“There’s a problem sir, in Paris.”

Gil stared at him with wide eyes. “Whatever it is, it’s not my fault.”

Klaus took a moment to refocus so he could roll his eyes at his son. “You’re currently not even in Paris, I should hope it’s not your fault.”

“It’s Captain DuPree.”

“Son I take it back. It’s your fault.”

“She’s stolen a deep terrain walker and is currently marching it through downtown Paris.”

“Those are not city approved,” Gil said, turning in his seat toward Boris.

“I don’t think she really cares,” Boris said. “She’s rampaging through the streets, or what’s left of them in many cases, apparently angry about how she’s not going to get any credit for everything even though she should.”

Gil crossed his arms. “I told you it was her fault.”

“She’s also stolen a firestarter a gatling gun and at least three liters of custard meant for the twentieth fleet.”

Klaus sighed. This day deserved it. “Gil, leave. Boris, draft out another apology letter regarding Captain DuPree.”

“That’s right I forgot,” Gil said. “The aid also said Voltaire’s not going to accept any more standard form letters in regards to Bang. Someone has to come in person to apologize for her actions or he’s not going to count it.”

“Well then I guess you’re going to be taking a detour on your way to your test.”

“I don’t count.” This day didn’t deserve sighing, it deserved alcohol. “Neither does ‘any minion you wouldn’t trust with at least class three paperwork.’”

Enough to drown in. “Boris you’re going to Paris.”

“What? Why him?” Gil whined.

“Because he’s here.”

“But–”

“I don’t care. Now go. Did you say you had a test you couldn’t afford to be late to?”

“But–”

“Now, Gilgamesh.”

“Herr Ba–”

“Both of you. **_Now._**”

Once they left Klaus dragged his attention back to the original reports of the… incident.

…how had they even managed to get a midmoth _up there?_

**Author's Note:**

> Klaus. Let me use small words for you. THERE IS A REASON YOUR SON TELLS YOU AS LITTLE AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE ABOUT HIS FRIENDS. HE'S WORRIED YOU'LL TAKE THEM AWAY. ESPECIALLY TARVEK WHOM _ YOU ALREADY HAVE ONCE BEFORE._
> 
> Ah Wooster. It's like Theo all over again. Klaus has the weirdest idea about who Gil sleeps with.  
And no, Gil is not dating. Klaus is just this bad at gauging his son's romantic life.  
Personally I don't think Gil and Wooster ever slept together or anything of the sort at all, but I am marking that as a personal opinion and not canon word for this series one way or another. Make of it what you will.
> 
> Also, in the real world marmite didn't exist yet in Girl Genius's time frame. I'm just going with some Spark created it early.


End file.
